


Don't Go Breaking My Heart

by whitchry9



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: CPR, Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Medical, accurate medical care, cardiac arrest - Freeform, what are timelines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-13 17:25:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2158977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitchry9/pseuds/whitchry9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young healthy hearts aren't supposed to just stop. But in the middle of a battle, that's what Clint's did. (Okay, maybe there was some falling off a building, but STILL.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt can be found here: http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/19458.html?thread=46142978#t46161410

“Gonna need a catch,” Clint muttered over coms.

“Really?” Tony complained.

Natasha hissed something in Russian.

“I'm on my way,” Tony sighed. “Where are you?”

“In about two seconds a building is going to come down. I'm on it.”

The rumbling began just after that.

Tony swore, and shot off to pick up the dark blur that was indeed beginning to tumble off the collapsing building.

“Bit more warning would be nice next time,” Tony hissed, dodging debris.

His dodging wasn't entirely successful, because he took a chunk of concrete to the head. It disorientated him for a second, but thanks to the suit, didn't knock him out or send him off course, which was good because Clint was still falling.

But Jarvis wasn't in his ear anymore, which meant the collision had damaged something, even if it wasn't him. He couldn't be bothered with it at the moment, because _Clint._

 

Tony snatched him out of midair, but not before part of a steel beam glanced off his head. It wasn't a direct hit, which was good, because it would have shattered his skull. A small piece of concrete bounced off his chest just before Tony reached him, and he was thankful for updating Clint's body armour the previous week, because otherwise it could have been much worse.

 

Still, he wasn't conscious or responsive, and Tony couldn't get vitals on him without Jarvis.

“Hawkeye's got a head wound,” Tony announced, looping around back to where the rest of the team was. “And Jarvis is down. The suit took some debris, and must have knocked him offline. I'm coming down so you can check on him, and we should probably get medical out here. Has Thor taken care of the last one?”

“Aye,” Thor boomed, a crack echoing through the air as his hammer collided with the last stone creature. “I will be there to assist.”

 

Tony landed, a little bumpily without the assistance of Jarvis and his palm thrusters, Hawkeye still unconscious in his arms. He set Clint down carefully on a clear spot of pavement. Natasha was immediately at his side, and Steve came jogging up behind her.

Hulk lumbered up behind them, followed closely by Thor, who was covered with dust and small bits of rubble.

 

Natasha was at his head, clutching at his wrist for a pulse, watching his chest for rising and falling breaths. “Shit,” she said quietly. “He doesn't have a pulse, and he's not breathing.”

They all collectively froze, which was not at all helpful.

Steve recovered first, and began CPR, compressing Clint's chest with care so as not to crush his ribs more than was needed.

Tony turned to Hulk. Because the battle was over, and Hulk was no longer the one they needed. Now it was Bruce who was needed.

“Hulk,” Tony said gently, “We need Bruce. Please. For Clint.”

“Bird man?” Hulk whispered, looking distraught.

Natasha nodded.

Hulk looked thoughtful, but began shrinking, changing, paling.

Then there was Bruce, trembling, exhausted, and naked, but alert.

“Bruce, Clint's heart stopped.” Tony told him, fast and urgent. “We're doing CPR, but we need to shock him.”

 

“Wh's his rhythm?” Bruce mumbled.

Tony stared, wide eyed at him. “What?” he gasped.

“V-tach? V-fib? Asystole?” Bruce's words were clearer now.

“Bruce, how the hell should I know? Jarvis is offline. I can rig up a shock for him, but I need to know how much.”

“200 joules.”

 

Tony manually set up the charge, and waited for Steve to finish his round of compressions. (Tony was so thankful for the first aid and CPR courses they'd all been forced to take.) Natasha felt for a pulse.

“No change,” she told them, her face grim and set.

“Shock him,” Bruce told Tony wearily.

Tony placed his hands on Clint's chest, at the positions Bruce indicated. Thor had managed to get his vest undone around the compressions, which was impressive.

“Everyone get clear,” Tony ordered. He glanced around, satisfied that no one else was touching Clint, and then discharged the shock.

 

Clint's body arched under Tony's hands, and as soon as he slumped back into his previous position Steve started compressions again.

 

“We can shock him again,” Bruce muttered, his eyelids drooping. “If that didn't work.”

“Okay. Stay with me Bruce, we need you,” Tony pleaded.

Bruce nodded, his eyes closed for a moment. He opened them again, looking slightly more alert. “300 joules this time. Are the SHIELD medics on the way?”

Natasha nodded. “Should be here any time now.”

 

Tony worried that Bruce was going to fall asleep in the agonizingly long moments before Steve finished his sets of compressions.

Natasha felt for a pulse, one hand at Clint's wrist, the other at his neck, in hopes that one of them would be present. She shook her head.

 

Tony swallowed, but got to his knees and crouched over Clint again.

“Clear,” Tony said loudly, making sure everyone was away from Clint. The last thing they needed was for someone else to get shocked. They only had a few people who were capable of doing CPR at the moment, and couldn't handle two people without pulses. God, that would be a nightmare.

Clint jerked again, then relaxed. It was unnerving to see him, or anyone, like that. It was like the time that Jane's intern, Darcy something or other, had a seizure. It was a whole new level of not being in control of your body, something that all of them knew too well.

 

“Commotio cordis,” Bruce muttered, while Steve began the next round of compressions. “A blow to the heart during a short part of the heartbeat cycle. It can cause cardiac arrest.”

“Are you sure?” Tony asked, hoping the panic wasn't evident in his voice.

Bruce shook his head. “But it's most likely. You noticed pretty much straight away that he didn't have a pulse?”

Tony froze. “Not soon enough,” he whispered. “Jarvis is down.” He hadn't even been the one to feel for a pulse. That had been Natasha as soon as she got to his side.

“You did fine,” Natasha said. “You caught him.”

She was at Clint's head, doing the breaths when Steve indicated for her to.

 

Steve finished his set of five compressions, and Natasha felt for a pulse again.

She nearly sagged with relief. “He has a pulse,”she sighed. “Not breathing, but he has a pulse.”

 

The SHIELD medics appeared then, as Natasha continued breathing for Clint, Steve with one hand monitoring the pulse in Clint's neck.

Bruce gave them a quick summary of what had happened, and they gently moved Natasha and Steve aside to get to their patient.

Bruce sagged then, his energy reserves completely spent.

“I'm gonna sleep now,” he sighed.

Thor scooped Bruce into his arms, and the man barely stirred.

“I have you,” he rumbled.

 

Now that Steve's focus had been removed, he turned his attention to Tony.

“Are you okay?” he asked, scrutinizing him. “I saw you hit your head, which must be the reason Jarvis is out.”

Tony waved a hand. “I'm fine. My heart is beating, and I'm breathing on my own, so I'm good.”

He stared at Clint, who was being intubated by the medics, apparently still not breathing.

But his heart was still beating, and that was enough.

 

Steve didn't quite drop the subject, but he nodded, and let it be for a moment. He did stand a bit too close to Tony, maybe in case he fell over, which was laughable. He was in the suit after all. He wasn't just going to topple over.

Okay, well except for the one time. But really. Once.

 

The medics knew better than to argue with the Avengers, and they all piled in the small quinjet that they had brought.

 

One of the medics continued breathing for Clint the entire flight to the helicarrier. It wasn't as intimate as Natasha's, but it was still painfully obvious.

Tony knew all too well that breathing was an important thing.

 

“Don't worry about him not breathing,” Bruce whispered.

Tony startled. “I thought you were asleep.”

Bruce hummed. “Sort of.”

He didn't provide any more information, and Tony moved on to what his main point was.

“Why not?”

“They would have given him drugs to paralyze him to intubate him. They'll wear off, but not for a while.”

Natasha perked up slightly at that, and Tony realized Bruce's explanation wasn't just for his benefit. Natasha was probably the one who was closest to Clint, and she'd been holding it together until now, but Bruce must have noticed that she was nearing the end of her frayed rope.

She relaxed minutely.

 

“Is anyone else hurt?” Steve asked, relief evident in his face as well. “Natasha, are you alright?”

She nodded. “Bruises only.”

Steve turned his attention back to Tony.

“Tony?” he asked, one eyebrow raised, daring him to protest.

Tony slouched. God, he was tired. Stress was exhausting. Give him monsters any day of the week, but just don't give him injured teammates.

He shrugged. “I'm fine,” he sighed. “Jarvis, not so much, but I can fix that.”

“Take the suit off,” he said quietly, and the way he said it managed to sound like it wasn't an order, even if it was.

Tony sighed, but obeyed. It wasn't easy to get the armour off without the help of his bots, but it was doable, especially when there was a demi-god with an enormous hammer to help. (And no, it wasn't a euphemism.)

 

Feeling suddenly naked, Tony stood there while Steve checked him over, his fingers pausing to prod at his head, and Tony couldn't help but flinch.

“I'm fine,” he protested, before Steve could even open his mouth. He looked pointedly over Steve's shoulder to where Clint was laying, and _god,_ just the look of him made his heart sink, even if he was doing mostly okay now.

 

Steve softened. “Okay. But you're still getting checked over. Later.”

Tony nodded, and ignored the way the quinjet spun a little bit.

What Steve didn't know couldn't hurt him.

 


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as they arrived on the helicarrier, Clint was taken away to the med bay, and the rest of the team followed behind, albeit more slowly, exhaustion, stress, and equipment weighing them down.

 

Steve followed through on his word, because he always did, Captain freaking America, and forced Tony to be checked over. Tony acquiesced to being examined as long as he got to hear about Clint as soon as they knew anything. And Steve stayed with him, probably as a babysitter, but Tony was content that he would hear any news about Clint, because of course the team leader would have to be kept up to date.

 

In the middle of the second neuro exam, even though Tony had informed the nurse of the year, his location, his name, and about five other things he hadn't even asked yet, Natasha poked her head in the curtain.

“You should have knocked,” Tony scowled. “I could have been naked in here.”

“Nothing I haven't seen before,” Natasha replied. “Also, _curtain._ Doctor wants to talk to us now.”

Tony threw himself off the bed, ignoring the huff of the nurse, and the face that Steve was giving him.

 

He followed Natasha to outside of the room where Clint was being kept, where the rest of the team was. Steve, and apparently the nurse, were both hot on his heels. He may have stumbled slightly, but hey, he was in a rush, and surely the helicarrier wasn't the steadiest thing. (He hadn't built it after all, so how good could it be?)

Steve must have seen it with his super soldier vision, and shoved him into a chair with wheels, which was a huge mistake. He rolled over to Natasha's side, but absolutely did not bump into her.

“How is he?” he asked, glaring up at the doctor. “Did the beam fracture his skull?”

“Just a concussion,” she assured them. “We can't entirely rule out a brain injury until he wakes up, but considering that CPR was started almost immediately, there shouldn't be any sort of hypoxia. We are going to keep an eye on his heart for a while after this, even if it was an isolated incident. ”

“Commotio cordis?” Bruce asked, and she nodded at him.

“Yes, that is our current diagnosis, and will be unless we discover something else.”

Tony hissed where he rolled to in the corner as one of the nurses prodded at the bruise on his head. “Can you just... no, leave me alone. Like what?”

“A heart defect could possibly cause this, but considering Agent Barton has undergone thorough medical examinations before, it would probably have been discovered, or otherwise shown symptoms. This is the most responsible diagnosis we can make.”

She glanced around the room, and seeing no questions, continued.

“He's still intubated, but not sedated. We're waiting for him to wake up before we remove the breathing tube. The meds from earlier have worn off, and he is triggering the vent, so we're not worried. Everything looks good. You all did good.”

She smiled reassuringly at them before she nodded at the nurse who was attacking Tony's skull, and left.

“Would you get your hands off me,” he hissed. “I am fine.”

The nurse let of his head. “Mr Stark, you would be discharging yourself against medical advice.”

Tony rolled his eyes, and was pleased when the room didn't spin. “I'm not leaving. I'm just going into that room,” he told him, pointing to Clint. He shrugged, pushing off from the wall, and he was certain that Steve was regretting the chair decision now. “Just try and stop me.”

 

They must have put Clint in the biggest room, because they all fit in, including Thor in his armour and Bruce in the cot that Thor must have carried him to. He was still out cold, or maybe not, considering his act on the quinjet.

God, Tony didn't know. His head hurt, and Jarvis was still down in the suit, and oh crap, where was the suit?

 

Steve must have noticed his panic. “Thor got it,” he said quietly, one hand on Tony's shoulder, maybe in an attempt to comfort him. It wasn't comforting though, but rather, stifling. Tony rolled away.

“Okay. Cool. That's good,” he muttered. “Thanks Thor.”

Thor nodded, not speaking because he'd been given numerous talks about the use of his indoor voice while in medical.

Tony slouched back into his chair, and while it was convenient, it wasn't very comfortable.

 

He was tired, he wondered if he'd mentioned that, or if maybe the rest of the team was too. But he sure as hell wasn't going to leave, not while Clint was still there, unconscious.

 

Tony pulled out his phone and began messaging Jarvis, who was miffed about not being updated.

He rolled his eyes at the AI he'd made, which of course was a mother hen. Why did he do that, really? Like he didn't have enough people looking after him already.

The thought made something behind the arc reactor grow warm, that he had people who cared about him, and he cared about, even if caring was dangerous.

Whatever. He was obviously attached, if his current position, keeping vigil over a hospital bed was any indication.

The rest of the team was strewn around the room, Thor perched on a chair that wasn't really big enough for him, examining Mjolnir. Bruce was still possibly sleeping in his pillow nest, and Steve was in a chair at the bedside. Natasha was in the other chair, although she was more on the bed than in the chair.

And then there was Tony, in his wheely chair.

All of them were in various states of exhaustion and injury, but it was just nice. Or at least it would be when Clint woke up.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 Natasha was the first to notice it, of course, since she was practically on the bed with him, when Clint's fingers twitched.

She covered them with her hand, and held them reassuringly.

With the other hand, she pushed the call button to summon the doctor.

 

Clint's body jerked, almost like when he was shocked, and Tony shuddered a little at the memory. But this time it wasn't a surge of electricity going through his body, but perhaps a surge of adrenaline from waking up in an unfamiliar environment, feeling like crap and something in his throat. Tony's throat tightened in sympathy. He'd been there, more than once.

 

Natasha leaned over him more, so when Clint opened his eyes he could see her. “Hush ребенок ястреб,” she whispered to him. His heartbeat slowed slightly at that, and he relaxed minutely. “There you go,” she soothed, patting his hair down. “Just lay back for a second. The doctor is coming to take care of you.”

The aforementioned doctor came through the door at that moment.

“Hello Agent Barton,” she said, smiling at him.

Clint only glared.

Nurses followed behind the doctor, and everyone but Natasha was shooed out, as Clint's grip on her wrist was not something anyone was going to fight.

Curtains were yanked around the bed, essentially shutting out the rest of the Avengers.

“Rude,” Tony muttered, perhaps a little put out that Steve had pulled him out of the room, ignoring his protests that he could control the wheely chair on his own.

 

The nurse from before came out of the woodwork to attack Tony's head.

“Would you just piss off, please,” Tony snapped, waving his arms around to place them between him and the nurse.

The man frowned at him, but left.

“Tony,” Steve said behind him, definitely with a hint of disappointment.

Tony spun around to face Steve's sad face. “I'm fine Steve. I'm oriented times three, there is only one of you, and I still know my prime numbers. In general, brain intact.”

Steve looked like he was going to protest, but finally relented. “Alright,” he sighed.

Tony really didn't think that would work, but he wasn't going to look a gift Steve in the mouth.

“Good move Cap,” Tony agreed.

 

The doctor emerged from the curtain, and the whore of nurses, spare one, followed her.

The curtains were pushed aside enough for Tony to see Clint, who was very much awake, and looking less than pleased with everything.

 

Tony rolled himself back into the room. “Good to see you're not dead bird brain.”

Clint rolled his eyes, and opened his mouth to chirp him back (aha, Tony was so clever, _chirp_ ), but his throat protested at that.

“Ungh,” he said.

“Eloquent,” Tony said, grinning.

Clint glared at him, but cheered up when Natasha pulled out a cup of ice chips, which she surely must have procured through magic, since she hadn't left the room.

Clint happily accepted the ice chips Natasha spooned into his mouth. The sigh that came out of his mouth was practically obscene, and it was almost justified that he winced immediately.

“What creature sat on my chest?” he croaked. “Did Thor use Mjolnir? Did Hulk do CPR? Why does it hurt so much,” he moaned.

Steve looked horrified. “Oh my god, Clint, I'm so sorry-”

“Shut up,” Natasha ordered. “He's complaining for the sake of complaining. It has nothing to do with you.”

Steve didn't seem mollified by that, but shut his mouth.

“CPR hurts,” Natasha told him, holding out another spoonful of ice chips. “But you know what hurts more? Being dead.”

“That doesn't even make sense,” Clint grumbled.

“It does, because if you died, I would kill you myself, in the most painful way imaginable. I'm thinking spoons and shoelaces.”

Clint's eyes widened, and he wordlessly accepted the next spoonful of ice chips.

“Thanks for breaking my ribs Steve,” Clint muttered.

Natasha swatted him gently. “They're not broken.”

Steve smiled. “You're welcome.”

“Thanks for shocking me Tony. Thanks for catching me Tony. Thanks for the armour upgrade so my heart wasn't completely pummelled,” Tony mocked.

“Did... did you hear something?” Bruce muttered, emerging from his blanket cocoon in the corner. Somehow he'd been missed in the grand shooing, and had been in the room the whole time.

Thor considered it, grinning widely. “Nay.”

“I hate you all,” Tony announced, getting to his feet so he could stalk off angrily. Wheely chairs were a lot of things, but dignified for escapes, they were not.

“We love you too Tony,” Clint smirked.

Tony realized he may have made a grave error when the room began to spin.

“Oh,” he whispered, right before passing out (not fainting) into Steve's general direction (certainly not into his arms, he wasn't a damsel in distress).

 

* * *

 

He woke up in the bed next to Clint, which must have been added just for him (embarrassing) to Steve staring him down.

“Not a word,” Tony hissed.

Next to him, Clint began laughing, and it was almost worth it, because of the moan of pain that followed.

“I saved your life,” Tony pouted.

“You're an idiot,” Steve sighed.

Natasha nodded.

“I hate you all,” Tony sighed, but laid back into the pillows.

 

* * *

 

Tony was discharged the next day, mostly anyway, he certainly left the next day, and the doctors were only mildly angry about that. Clint had to stay for another night, against his vehement protests, which was cute, really. Natasha pointed out that his heart had stopped, and then gave him the look that threatened bodily harm if he attempted to leave, and Clint shut up after that.

Also, Steve brought him real food, which was surprisingly thoughtful.

Plus it had the added advantage of shutting Clint up, because he couldn't really talk and eat at the same time, or at least not if he valued the continued use of his tongue.


	4. Chapter 4

The whole heart stopping thing had kind of freaked him out, not that he was going to admit it. Sure, he was used to broken bones and bruises and cuts from falling off buildings, but his heart stopping was not something that was in his normal repertoire of injuries, and nor should it be.

 

The team seemed to take it seriously, which he understood, considering they were the ones who'd had to perform CPR on him when he was technically dead.

His chest ached in remembrance, and he rubbed at it absentmindedly.

The team also seemed to think that because of the whole heart stopping thing, that he was now a sixty year old man who'd underground a triple bypass and two heart attacks, and needed to carefully watch every bite of food that went into his mouth, which was just ridiculous.

 

He tolerated it for the first few days, since he did have junk food stocks in a number of strategic places, both around the Tower and at SHIELD, so he wasn't going to starve. And the team seemed to let up after the first week, after he went for a checkup, and the cardiologist proclaimed him healthy.

Clint thought that would be the end of it.

 

Weeks later, Clint went to help himself to breakfast cereal, only to find his chocolate frosted sugar bombs replaced by bran flakes.

“Guys!” he bellowed, and the rest of the team appeared from wherever they'd been hiding, waiting for him to discover their deception.

He glared at them. “Seriously? I am going to kill you all. Slowly. Painfully. Give me back my cereal.”

“Clint, we're concerned about your heart health,” Steve said seriously.

“Guys, this was an isolated incident. I didn't have a heart attack. Come on,” he pleaded. “If you're going to be on anyone about their eating habits it should be Tony. I mean, really, he's got an arc reactor in his chest and everything. My heart cannot be worse than that, even if it did stop for a bit.”

 

Steve appeared to consider it for a moment, then turned, slowly, to face Tony.

Tony paled.

“Steven Rogers, if you even think about touching my food, Jarvis will make your life miserable,” he hissed. “Jarvis, initiate a demo of code Spangly Pants.”

With that, Tony turned and beat a hasty retreat, probably to lock himself in his workshop.

“Tony-” Steve began to call, but was cut off when the speakers in the room began playing 'Star Spangled Man'.

The first verse played, and faded out.

Natasha was definitely smirking, even though Clint knew it looked like her normal face to everyone else.

“Okay, fine, Jarvis, tell Tony...”

He trailed off as the music began playing. It played a verse and a half before fading out.

 

“I am sorry Captain Rogers,” Jarvis said, sounding genuinely apologetic. “The demo will last for another 55 minutes. I recommend not speaking for that period, as it is triggered by your voice.”

“Highly effective,” Clint said, beaming.

He scurried off before anyone else could take up Steve's argument. After all, he still had a box of his cereal in the vents. Somewhere.

 


End file.
